Thane frowned suspiciously at the phone. The connection he'd once had with Stevens had been more like father and son at times than superior and underling. He’d followed orders from this man without question, blindly executing people on his word. But something in this conversation wasn’t sitting right with Thane.
Before he could speak, he caught a scent on the air. Earthy, fragrant, familiar. The muscles in his shoulders relaxed, then purred under the firm grip of slim fingers.
“If you’re not going to get to the point, sir, I’m afraid I have to go.”
Connie's fingers trailed over his collarbone as she descended the steps and swung around to straddle him. Perched on his knees, she cupped his face in her hands, her eyes scrutinizing his features as though she knew every thought in his head. Whatever she saw, she didn't like, and the Domme shutters slammed down. She whispered, “Sir?”
Thane rolled his eyes in a silent apology, then reached up to smooth out the little line etched between her eyebrows.
“It’s a job, a quick one, Thane. Off the record, obviously, but the pay is good.”
Damn it, he didn’t want to discuss jobs while the woman he loved was sitting on his knees. He didn’t want to talk about them at all—his time as a master of the trigger was long gone. While his eyesight was still excellent, Thane knew he didn’t have the perfect vision he’d once prided himself on using. His stupid bum leg wouldn’t hold his weight under several of his shooting stances, and he just didn’t have the urge to keep popping bullets into unsuspecting skulls.
He hadn’t felt that urge for…well, since well before the accident.
“I’m afraid the answer is no. I’m retired, sir. I’m useless.”
The Mistress scowled at him, trying to pluck the phone from his hand. Her expression switched from curious to annoyed when he thwarted her attempt, then catapulted into what he might dub her Armageddon face. It promised retribution, which meant she wasn’t pleased with him for putting himself down.
“Your country needs you, son,” Stevens snapped, raising Thane’s suspicions even higher. “One last mission, Thane. You’re the first one I thought of, and the only one I can trust to do this thing. I would prefer not to take persuasive methods to gain your cooperation.”
Thane snarled at the threat, his eyes meeting Connie’s bemused ones as she lifted her hand to slide her fingers into Thane's hair. She yanked his head back, eyes never leaving his as she wound herself up to come to his defense. She snatched the phone and said curtly, “I’m afraid Thane's currently preoccupied. Who am I? Sugar,” she crooned, making him hard with her use of his nickname for her in such a salacious tone, “I'm the bitch who rides him for miles and puts him away still fucking wet.”
Dear Lord, Stevens would have a coronary at being spoken to that way. Thane’s eyebrows vaulted as she bared her teeth at the commander’s response. He tried to take the phone back, but she gave his hair a savage tug that created an ache deep in his balls. Fuck, she was hot when she let herself take command completely. He'd remind her of that later after he fucked her hard enough to make her extremities go numb.
“Uh-huh. I see, I see. I think you’ve already gotten the only answer you’re going to get from him, so if I were you, I’d move on to the next pawn you want to use for whatever you have planned. Have a good night.” Connie ended the call, then switched his phone off and shoved it in her back pocket. “And as for you, naughty boy, I think it's time you understand who has you by the balls.”
Yes. The word hissed through his mind with gratitude. With his neck exposed from her grip on his hair, he cast aside any thought of Stevens or dominant desires and flowed into her hands. “Yes, ma'am.”
“Good boy.” She leaned forward, running her tongue up his throat and along his jaw until she reached his earlobe. Giving it a sharp nip, she laughed when he jerked. “It's been far too long since I dragged my toy bag out of my locker. My toys will think I've abandoned them.” She scraped her fingernails over his Adam's apple as he swallowed. “Imagine how excited they're going to be when they see the specimen they get to torment tonight.”
His cock throbbed in thick pulses, his balls drawing up tight as though she did indeed have them in her hold. By Christ, she was ridiculously good at dirty talk—he couldn't wait to hear how filthy her mouth could be with the right incentive. “I'm all yours, Mistress Connie.”
She reached down and stroked the bulge in his jeans, humming with delight. “Yes, you are. Every delicious inch. Such a shame this isn't going to fulfil a purpose tonight, isn't it? All that cum going to waste. I'd feel bad about that if I didn't know exactly what I'm going to do to you.” Her nails dug into the denim around his cock, and she whispered, “How long has it been since someone sodomized you, Thane?”
Sweet Mother of all things good and holy, he thought. She'd certainly mastered the art of decimating a man with words. A subtle jab of pain across his scalp warned him to keep his attention on her, and only her. The Mistress wanted an answer, and it would appear she wanted it now. “Years. Time moves fast. I told you about the Domme and the, ah, issues we had with the lube. She unfortunately lacked patience as well as skill.”
The fingers in his hair gentled, stroked. Although her stormy eyes remained dark and heavy, her face softened. “Lucky for you, you'll remember tonight for all the right reasons. I don't make amateurish mistakes, Thane. I'm very, very good at what I do.” Shimmying off his knees, she stood on the porch step and flicked a finger upwards, gesturing for him to rise. “We'll talk hard limits on the way, but I need to know whether you'd rather scene in private or in one of the public areas.”
Public play didn't bother him. Avalon's attitude toward him was warm, friendly, welcoming, and they knew he swung both ways on the dominance spectrum. There was a thrill at being on display, exhibited, with his submission spotlighted for everyone to see. And perhaps the humility that came with it would help rebalance his dominant side. “Public scenes don't concern me, Mistress. Whatever you decide will be my pleasure.”
“An excellent answer.” Wearing her Domme cloak, Connie ascended the steps and headed back into Avalon, not checking to see if he followed. She was secure enough in her power, confident in his ability and eagerness to obey, that she didn't have to keep an eye on him. As he stalked along behind her, never more than an arm's span away, she asked, “So, your hard limits?”
“Bondage. Not all bondage,” he amended when she glanced back at him. “I've been advised not to put my leg under too much strain. Long periods of extension, twisting into unnatural or uncomfortable positions put me through hell—I have no issues with cuffs, ropes, whatever; it's just the position.”
“Of course. I won't put you under duress,” she promised as they sailed through the double doors into the social area. “Wait here. I just need to collect my bag from the locker room. Is your leg hurting you?”
“A few twinges,” he admitted quietly, hating the weakness. “Nothing that can't be ignored.”
“No, we don't ignore injuries, Thane, no matter how old they are. Stand here. I'll only be a moment.” She darted off into the locker room with long, sexy strides that swayed her hips. He had a fondness for those hips.
As he did as he was ordered, Thane spotted Liam back behind the bar. In the seating pit, Bodie curled up on her Master's knee, half asleep, while Braun stroked her back and conversed with Loki, Atticus, and Jasper. Like Bodie, Archie snuggled into her fiancé, looking blissfully absent from the discussion. They made such a statement, he wondered if they could see it.
The epitome of family, of community, of belonging.
It was humbling to understand that he was one of the fragments supporting that unit now. Connie was giving him everything she had, bit by bit, but one of the things he treasured most was something she hadn't given, but had simply dragged him into. She'd pulled him into that small community, into the Masters' circle, and trusted him to help strengthen it. It was so stupidly easy to bring the wrong element into a familial unit and h
ave it rip the beauty of it apart at the seams.
“Bodie convinced Braun not to take her home yet,” Connie murmured with disapproval as she joined him again. They continued through to the walkway. “She should be at home, in bed, resting. Doing a little takes a lot out of her right now. If she's not careful, she'll be exhausted for the next few days and end up bedridden. But that's for Braun to deal with,” she decided. “Any other limits you'd like to set in place?”
“Pain. I can take high amounts, but I'm not a masochist.”
“Then it's fortunate I'm not a sadist. Well, not to Jasper's level, anyway. Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of. Would you like me to take your bag, Mistress?”
“I can manage. I want you to go pick a station, Thane. Somewhere you can stand upright, and I have access to all the essentials.” Her lips curved at the implication. “Somewhere that won't put you in an untenable position for your comfort. Choose wisely; this may be the only opportunity where I give you a choice in where we scene.”
Taken aback by her thoughtfulness, Thane blinked. “Thank you, ma'am.” He limped away, checking out the empty stations until he found one he thought would suit her criteria. Aware she was trailing after him, in no rush, he stepped into the area and crossed over to the piece of equipment that resembled the top half of a resistance machine.
The metal frame was simply an upside-down U, squared off at the corners rather than rounded. Two long metal rods were attached to the bottom, acting as feet. From the top bar, two handles swung down like blunt hooks. Testing it, he stepped into the frame and slotted his elbows and upper arms onto the padded rests, gripping the supports further up in his hands.
It fitted him almost perfectly, keeping his back straight and his shoulders almost level without overstraining his joints. He pushed forward, trying to knock the frame over, but the metal feet were too long. When Connie appeared in front of him, he removed his arms from the padded cradles. “I think this might suit your intentions, Mistress.”
“Braun's been buying new toys again.” She ran her hand along the solid steel frame, her eyes narrowing as she inspected the equipment. When her mouth pursed thoughtfully, he could see the little wheels spinning in her head, concocting ideas. “Yes, I agree with you. This will suit us perfectly. Strip down to the skin, Thane, and get yourself comfortable. Feet widespread, touching the metal if you can.”
It felt really damn good to follow orders, he thought as he undressed. The peace that came with having control liberated from his hand was already spreading through his veins. There was no nervousness, no trepidation as Connie wheeled over a trolley and began selecting items from her bright red toy bag. He just bared his body, emptied his mind of everything but her, and positioned himself in the middle of the frame. Arms back in the padded rests, ankles touching the steel.
“Someone trained you remarkably well, Thane. I’m presuming I can thank the military for that?” Connie asked the question respectfully, which he appreciated. “I must admit, I’m surprised at your lack of ink. I thought military men liked their tattoos.”
“Yeah, we do. It was a great source of entertainment for my team when I told them I was allergic to the damn ink.” He watched her as she picked up a short length of blue silk rope. “The army taught me a lot about obeying orders. The rest comes down to wanting to please. Over the years, I researched a lot. Taught myself how to be the kind of Dom I wanted to be, setting my line in the sand as to who I would become if I followed that path. When I switch, I try to envision myself from both sides and behave the way I'd want any submissive under me to behave. I put both theories into practice when I play.”
“It works,” she told him, stroking her fingertips along his left arm. “I'd say you've evolved into an exceptional Dom, with the potential to match him with your submissive side. I'm going to strap your arms to the rests. Shibari is Braun's pastime, so this won't be as neat and pretty as anything he can do.”
Thane's gaze dropped to her fingers as they wove blue rope around his wrist, then along his arm to the elbow. The brush of her digits was soothing, the warmth of them comforting. When he tested the bondage, he found it firm, without any loss of circulation. The muscles down his back loosened, his head falling into the mindset of someone who was having the stress kneaded away, layer by layer.
“You'll tell me if you feel any tingling or numbness,” she ordered as the second rope restrained his other arm in place. More brushes of her fingertips and the earthy tones of her scent relaxed him further. “I'm going to cuff your ankles and tie them instead of using rope. The safewords are what?”
“Red and yellow, Mistress.” Shit, his tongue already felt thick, and she hadn't even really started yet. “Won't need them.”
“I don't believe you will, but you'll use them if you do.” She pinched the tips of his fingers to check circulation, then snagged two fluffy cuffs from the table. Crouching down to put them around his ankles put her in the perfect spot to witness the jut of his cock. “Don't be a hero, Thane. If something hurts, you tell me. Tonight isn't about pain, it's about claiming you the way you've claimed me—completely, irrevocably.”
“Okay.” He was down with that. It didn't matter how she did it as long as she did. Commander Stevens’ reappearance in Thane’s life was a kick in the stomach, but it didn't matter. Stevens had started to show his true, ugly colors during that call, but now Thane was bathing in the brilliant light of a woman who didn't know how to be ugly if she tried. “Claim away, Mistress.”
“Well, you're easy to please, aren't you?” Connie had the cuffs around his ankles before he could come up with a witty reply, then she threaded a short length of rope through each D-ring and tied them to the framework. Elegantly, she rose and smiled at him. “Submission is as much a part of you as domination, isn't it? You flow from one to the other seamlessly.”
“Just like you, Connie,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as her hands smoothed up his chest. “We're the same.”
Her laugh was light, but a little sad. “Maybe one day, Thane. Keep your eyes closed until I say otherwise.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Languishing in the dark, he missed the warmth of her hands on his naked skin. There was a heaviness in the atmosphere that told him they weren't alone, but the prospect of being observed wasn't a concern. If she left him here, walked away, he would simply wait for her to return. He'd listen to the voices of the audience, he'd feel the weight of their gazes on his body, the judgement on his scars, but he had every faith in her.
However, she gave him no need to worry. Thane could hear her moving around, sensing her like a glimmer of light behind his eyelids. Her scent was strong, not overpowering, but enough to ground him with the knowledge his Mistress wasn't going anywhere. He didn't need his bound hands to reach out and touch her when she was tangible on his senses.
Something cool slipped over the tip of his cock, sliding down the length, tightening as it encountered his girth. He bared his teeth to ride out the pinch of discomfort as it settled around the base of his shaft, just in front of his sac. Focusing on Connie's soft coos of apology, he refused to make a sound, even when something cinched around the top of his balls.
“Such a thick cock,” she praised as she ran her fingertips around whatever contraption she'd just contorted around his genitals. She grasped him in her hot little hand, sucking the air from his lungs as she stroked him firmly, encouraging him to harden further. The ring strangled him, trapping what felt like every drop of blood circulating through his body in his dick. “So beautiful. I bet women would fight to the death for a chance to ride this beast. Ready to come yet, Thane?”
“God, yes.” The plea was raw and guttural. The fisting demonstration, the piercing ceremony, Connie's display of possessiveness…they all acted as foreplay. Sweet, delicious foreplay that left him edgy and ready to fuck. Now, the cock ring and her teasing was enough to have his balls tighten with release. “Please, Mistress.”
“Soon,” she promised, before circ
ling around behind him. Her hand reached through his legs, pulling something backwards.
A small row of what felt like rubber beads dragged along his perineum, making his eyes roll behind their lids. He groaned deeply, his hips shifting before they jerked against the sensation of a slender finger, slick with lube, pushing unerringly against his asshole. One knuckle, two. His groan dropped an octave as his chin hit his chest.
Fuck yes. He'd missed this. The last exploration into anal play with someone else hadn't gone well, but already, Connie was wiping away memories of inexperience and ineptitude with a firm, knowledgeable hand. He grunted, throbbed, when she worked a second finger into him. Slow, gentle thrusts opened his sphincter, brought him even closer to climax.
“No coming, Thane. I'm nowhere near done with you yet.”
Her fingers disappeared, much to his disappointment, only to be replaced by something much longer, colder, and with a hell of a lot of bumps. It was inserted firmly, forcing his hands to fist around the supports as his back arched. His insides came alive as the anal beads pushed deeper, awakening all the delightful nerves. Her name was a prayer, then a curse when the biggest—and he hoped last—sphere entered his ass. Any more, and he wouldn't be responsible for what his cock did of its own volition.
“Any pain?” Connie ran her hands up his back, then dragged her nails down either side of his spine.
“No, Mistress.” It was a fucking lie, but in a strange way, the pressure building in his groin wasn't pain so much as…a wondrous form of bliss. Every breath he took enraged the blood in his veins until his body burned.
Heat pressed against his back in the shape of naked breasts, naked skin, naked Connie. His eyes threatened to open, only staying shut through sheer force of will. He'd give anything to see the Domme in her full glory. Instead, he hissed between his teeth, fighting the urge to beg when her hands slid around his hips to his dick. One fleeting brush of her skin over his length, then she drove him crazy with the scrape of her nails over his lower abdomen, the sensitive tops of his thighs, his scar.
Talk For Me: Club Avalon Book 3 Page 30
